Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The wide-open house bustled with activity. The persistent sounds of hammering and sawing suggested the roof was under repair. In the meadow in front of the house, a pair of maids vigorously beat carpets. Workers were inside, painting the wooden banister.

Meryfell Hall had been sold, Celeste had told her. That would explain why it was being extensively restored. The new owner evidently had ordered it.

The park surrounding the manor house had transformed dramatically. The once neatly trimmed lawn and flower beds adorning the estate were gone. In their place, long grass and unruly bushes had overgrown the area, and the formerly well-trimmed trees were now shrouded in wild undergrowth.

Come to think of it, the land and the tenants in the nearby cottages did not seem to thrive, either. George had badly neglected them. Would the new owner do anything to improve their situation ?

Louisa walked hesitantly up to the entrance with the heavy oak door.

A maid rushed out of the house and said, "Make haste, we are to help clear out the library shelves. We need every pair of hands we can get with those thousands of books!" The girl had evidently mistaken her for a housemaid.

How low I have fallen, she thought wryly. But who could blame her? She was still wearing the simple, threadbare cotton dress of a peasant with a dusty and wrinkled apron tied around her waist, and a lopsided cap hanging off her head. Louisa adjusted herself and with a big breath, stepped through the main door.

Meryfell Hall was an old Elizabethan manor house that had been in the possession of the lords of Milford for many generations. There were dark wood, panelled walls, and heavy marble fireplaces everywhere. The tapestries were faded and the carpets, she noted, had been rolled up and put aside.

At first glance, the house had lost much of the splendour that it had when she'd visited as a girl. Cobwebs hung in the corners, and a musty, mouldy smell clung to the walls as if the rooms hadn't been aired in a long time.

Two maids were waxing the floor, two more were taking down the curtains, and several footmen were carrying boxes of linen and other contents down the stairs. No one noticed or cared that she was there; those who saw her assumed she was part of the household staff.

With light steps, Louisa went up the stairs, turned right, walked down the corridor, and after a quick look to the right and left to make sure no one was around, she slipped into the room and closed the door.

This had been her room when she stayed at Meryfell Hall whenever they visited. It was half bare of furniture; the bed had no mattress, and no curtains hung on the windows. She ran her hand over the wooden windowsill.

W and L were engraved there, intertwined.

Will had done that after she'd smuggled him into her room to show him her collection of books. George had nearly caught him; he'd burst into her room without knocking. "Where is he? I know he's here!"

"Get out of my room at once, George. You have no right to be here," Louisa had snapped.

"I know the cur is hiding somewhere." He lay down on the floor to look under the bed. Then, seeing that no one was there, rushed over to her wardrobe and pulled the door open.

At that moment, her mother had fortunately appeared, scolding him for entering a girl's bedroom, and George retreated with a scowl and a barely muttered apology.

Will, meanwhile, was hanging on for dear life outside the window. Then his foot slipped, and he'd fallen headlong into a bush. He'd hobbled away with nothing worse than a bruised ankle.

A smile flitted over Louisa's face as her fingers traced the engraving.

W and L.

A door slammed outside. Footsteps sounded. Her head snapped up, and she held her breath.

"We must make haste. The bedrooms are to be finished within the next two days," a male voice said. "He'll come to inspect them in person."

"All the bedrooms?"

"All of them."

"Heaven have mercy, this is impossible! The walls are completely damp. And the roof is leaking! How are we to repair it all within this short time?" The voice that answered was filled with despair.

"The word impossible is not a part of our vocabulary. An order is an order. It is to be done with immediate effect without ifs or buts."

"But …"

The voices faded, and no one entered the room.

When the footsteps receded, she walked over to the fireplace and felt for the shelf in the chimney. She pushed aside the loose brick, then fished out a small package and held it reverently in her hands.

She unwrapped the flannel cloth to reveal a tin box. She blew away the ashes and soot and lifted the lid.

Inside was the book of Gulliver. She turned it over in her hands. It was a leather volume; dirty and somewhat faded, but still in good condition.

Then she lifted out a tiny figure, that of the Princess of Glubbdubdrib, which Will had carved for her.

Wrapping the box back in the flannel, she picked up a pile of curtains lying on the floor and hid it underneath. Lowering her head, she left the room and walked purposefully down the corridor to join the other maids. Once outside, she dropped the pile of cloth on a heap and scurried off into the forest.

She hesitated in the clearing, wondering if she should go to the lake. She remained undecided until she saw a flash of blue between the trees.

Someone was coming.

Ready to flee, Louisa picked up her skirts, then stopped. Coming through the trees was none other than Celeste Cooper-Wiles.

"Louisa!" Her hand fluttered to her chest. "I did not expect to see you here. It appears you've caught me trespassing."

"If you were trespassing, then what of me? I thought you were in Bournemouth."

Celeste stepped over a fallen log and walked towards her. "Yes, that was the plan. Shortly after you'd left, Mrs Browning's carriage pulled up, and she offered me the chance to stay with her at the vicarage for a while to keep her company. I gladly accepted."

"Mrs Browning?"

"You never met her, did you? She's the wife of the new vicar. She has always been very kind to me, and I am more than happy to stay here for a little longer, even though I know I will eventually have to leave for my aunts in Bournemouth." She gestured to the path on the right that would lead deeper into the forest. "Shall we walk together for a while? I have always enjoyed this part of the forest."

Louisa agreed.

Celeste looked at her with a smile. "I always admired you when I was younger, you know, when you spent the summer here with your parents. George was so horrid, wasn't he? He was not much of a brother to me." This was certainly still the case. "And then, in the summer, you would come and bring all the glamour of the ton with you. I was too shy to talk to you."

"I remember that every time I tried to talk to you, you would run away and hide."

Celeste grimaced. "I was young and timid. I would have loved nothing more than to talk to you and to try on some of your wonderful dresses." She laughed. "Well, I can be honest now, I suppose. I used to follow you around secretly."

"You did?"

"Yes. You spent a lot of time here in the forest." She held up her hand. "And by the lake."

Louisa did not answer.

"With that boy." Celeste smirked.

Louisa's eyes shot up to meet hers. "Will?"

"That was his name, wasn't it? Look, we have reached the clearing of the birches. Shall we sit here? The tree stumps here make a nice spot."

This was the clearing where she'd always waited for Will. "I did not know that you knew Will. Or that you were following us." Louisa frowned.

"Yes. I hid in the bushes, and I was good at covering my tracks. One learns to do that when one has a brother like George." She said it matter-of-factly.

"You should have shown yourself. We would have accepted you as a playmate." Or maybe not. Truth was that Louisa would have been too possessive of Will's company to share him with anyone.

"I enjoyed being invisible and watching you from my hiding place." She chuckled. "I hope you'll forgive me. That last summer. It was so romantic. "

Louisa's eyes widened, and she covered her cheeks with her hands. "Oh dear. Oh no!"

Celeste laughed. "Oh yes! I saw you kissing." She looked so cheeky it was impossible to be angry. "You kissed a lot that summer."

Louisa buried her face in her hands with a groan.

"Never fear, it was nothing indecent! Will was always such a gentleman, and I saw nothing indecorous, just two young people madly in love. I was so charmed that I vowed that one day, I, too, would find someone with whom to experience something like that. True love." Her fingers toyed with the fabric of her skirt, no doubt as she realised that her prospects of doing so had disappeared.

Louisa's cheeks still burned. "I feel terrible that I never really noticed you. I thought you were too young. You must have been very lonely."

"The advantage of being ignored is that nobody pays any attention to what you're doing. And if George didn't pay any attention to me, so much the better. He'd only come up with nonsensical ideas?—"

"Like cutting off the heads of all your dolls," Louisa interjected.

Celeste laughed. "He did that to you too, didn't he? Horrible boy. To avoid him, I roamed about the forest and played by the lake. I had a tranquil childhood, Louisa. Yes, it was lonely, but I was content."

And now she'd lost her home. Life wasn't fair to women.

"Will lived in the vicarage then, didn't he? I think they gave me his old room." Celeste gave a short laugh. " He must have hated studying there, for the desk is still full of marks and inscriptions. Instead of learning his Latin, he carved figures into the wood. One of them says ‘May Cicero rot in hell.'" She giggled. "He has it carved in the drawer where no one can see it."

"He hated Latin with a passion," Louisa said softly. "But the vicar pushed him to study because he wanted him to go to a boarding school. He wanted him to study theology eventually. But Will never wanted that."

"It was the old vicar, Reverend Graham. I can barely remember him. He was the one who'd taken care of Will, right?"

Louisa nodded. "Will always wanted to be a baker. He makes the best bread in England." She smiled sadly. "He's achieved his dream, hasn't he?" She should be happy for her old friend. Then why was she feeling so maudlin?

Celeste tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Will becoming a baker, I mean. Now that he's taken over Mr Brooks' bakery, I dare say he's achieved his dream."

Celeste looked at her strangely. "Louisa. Will didn't take over Brooks' bakery."

Louisa jerked her head up. "What do you mean? Of course he did. I met him only yesterday."

Celeste blinked, looking confused. "Will? Are you certain?"

"Yes, at the market in Dorchester. He was selling his bread. He was telling me about life as a baker, how he'd taken over Brooks' bakery, and—and how his wife Mary was expecting a child. "

"Oh." Celeste exhaled.

"We talked for a while. Life isn't easy for a baker these days."

"Louisa."

"I met his wife Mary in the bakery the other day when I was buying bread. I didn't know she was Will's wife."

"Wilbur."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The man you spoke to at the market was Wilbur. He was also an apprentice to Mr Brooks at about the same time as Will. Will was never an official apprentice. Don't you remember Wilbur?"

Louisa stared into Celeste's earnest face. "I don't understand what you're saying. Will—but of course he was an apprentice."

Celeste shook her head. "Reverend Graham was emphatically against it."

"You mean that was Wilbur? I spoke to Wilbur?" Louisa massaged her temples as if that would help her understand more quickly.

"Wilbur was Mr Brooks' apprentice. He took over the bakery when Mr Brooks died, and then he married Mary. They're expecting a baby now. As far as I know, but not for certain since I was very young, your Will was allowed to spend time in the bakery because Mr Brooks had a soft spot for him. He probably taught him some rudimentary baking skills. He may have wanted to take him on as a second apprentice as well. I'm not sure, I just know that he never formally did. Reverend Graham had other plans for Will. "

Louisa nodded. "Yes, Will always spoke in conditional terms. ‘If Mr Brooks takes me on as an apprentice'—but he talked about it as if it was a fact that it would happen." She frowned deeply, her hand absentmindedly touching her temple. "I just can't believe I've been talking to Wilbur all this time, thinking he was Will. How excessively stupid of me to have confused the two." It would explain his strange behaviour towards her. He'd recognised her, but he'd remained distant and formal. He hadn't remembered Glubbdubdrib. Louisa barely remembered Wilbur. A vague memory of an older boy at Mr Brooks' bakery hovering in the background, carrying heavy sacks of flour, pounding in the trough, rose in her mind. He'd been older, bigger, burlier than Will. "He's like my older brother," Will once told her. "He's a good sort of fellow and I am fond of him."

Wilbur would have known her, of course, since she'd visited the bakery quite often. They would have talked.

"How silly of me to mix them up." She rubbed her hand on the bark underneath her, agitated.

"I suppose it's easy to do. They have similar names, and so much time has passed. And we have all grown up. I suppose we all look different from what we used to look like back then."

"And Will? What happened to him? Do you know where he is?"

Celeste looked at her with her big blue eyes. "Oh. You wouldn't know, would you? You returned to London rather quickly that summer."

"What happened? Tell me." A sense of dread inexplicably overcame her, and her heartbeat quickened .

Celeste bit her lip and looked away.

"Tell me. He must have gone to that boarding school Reverend Graham recommended. Did he study theology at Oxford? Maybe he is a clergyman now, like his father?"

Oh, please, God, please …

But Celeste shook her head slowly, and tears swam in her eyes. "They never told you, did they? Of course not. They wouldn't."

"Celeste. Please." Louisa's voice shook.

"They threw him into Dorchester prison. He was sentenced to transportation for burglary."

All the blood drained from her face.

Celeste took a deep breath. "They say he died less than a month later."